Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Death By Chocolate Is A Myth

I kinda feel bad about making my very first post about chocolate chip cookies. There's nothing inherently wrong with cookies, really. They're warm, gooey, and they go great with a glass of milk and all that. No, I feel bad because a certain someone (You know who you are) I know happens to be a raging cookie-holic*. He also happens to be on a diet right now. It's one of life's strange little paradoxes. Like jumbo shrimp. Or like how people who are big dicks usually have little dicks.

Anyhoodle, behold: My (now not so) top secret Chocolate Chip Cookie recipe.

Chocolate Chip Cookies

  • 1 Cup of butter-flavoured shortening
  • 3/4 Cup of white sugar
  • 3/4 Cup of packed brown sugar
  • 2 Eggs
  • 2 Teaspoons of Vanilla
  • 2 Cups of all-purpose flour
  • 1/4 Teaspoon of baking soda
  • 2 Cups of chocolate chips
Start off by preheating the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit (not sure what that is in Celsius, and I really don't care enough to do a 10 second google search, so fuck it). While that's warming up, creaming together the shortening, the white sugar and the brown sugar until it sort of looks like the wet sand you might find at a beach. I have to admit, the resemblance between the two is just uncanny, really. Anyway, once that's done, mix in the eggs and the vanilla as well. If I were a real chef, I'd probably say something about adding the eggs one at a time, but I'm not, so just dump that shit in there and whip it into smooth, sugary froth.

Next, sift the flour and baking soda into the bowl. Or if you're exceptionally lazy, like me, just pour it all in with reckless abandon. You'll thank me later. You can throw in a pinch of salt if you so fancy, but I can't really tell the difference either way, so I prefer to just skip the needless sodium altogether. Mix it together until you get the familiar site of cookie dough. Next, just pour in your choice of Chocolate chips. It doesn't matter what kind you use, so long as you like them. I use the semi-sweet variety, but to be fair, I'm exceptionally boring. Mint, Dark, White...Whatever you want, really.

When it's all mixed together, and the oven is sufficiently hot, roll the cookie dough into little balls. Mine are about the size of ping pong balls, but that's just a rough estimate, so feel free to play around with it. What I like to do is to flatten them out just a bit in my hand so that they spread out in the oven a little bit, without being to puffy or to thin. Once you got that out of the way, throw them in the oven for 15 minutes, though once again, feel free to play around with that to get the desired level of softness/crispiness. You can let them cool on a wire rack for a couple minutes, but if you don't have one handy, I guess you can just throw them on a plate or something. Either way, they're not long for this world. Enjoy them with a glass of milk, or you can store them in the freezer or in saran wrap. Enjoy!

*Not an actual word...I think.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

A Quick FAQ While We Set Up The Kitchen

Who the hell are you?

My name is Jeremy Feist, and yes, as the title suggests, I am a Montreal-based, 18-year-old gay porn star. Spiffy, huh?

Sorta. What's the point of this blog, anyway?

Basically, this is how it works: I'll bake a couple new sugary bits of awesome every week, and then post the recipes here on the blog. Sometimes it'll just be words and text, and sometimes it'll be full-on video...At least, it will be once I figure out how to edit video anyway. Either/Or, really. Oh, and just to up the ante, I'll be doing it all wearing nothing but an apron. And I do mean NOTHING but an apron. Ha ha! Unseen dangly bits.

Isn't Johnny Hazzard doing something exactly like this? Only better?




Alright fine. So why baking?

Well, here's more or less how it started...

The first time I ever baked was my Dad's 39th Birthday (Which I think made me 12...ish). I decided to bake him a coffee cake after finding a recipe in an old cookbook, and ended up whipping up a batter from scratch. It was least it would have been, if my brothers hadn't decided to take some artistic freedom with the whole thing.

As it turns out baking, like most everything else, goes pretty well until you throw family into the mix, at which point it all sort of goes to shit. My older brother decided to add sprinkles to the batter, which are pretty much the culinary equivalent of Megan Fox: garrishly pretty, without adding any redeeming qualities to the mix. Naturally, said sprinkles sunk to the bottom of the pan during the actual baking process and formed a blackened shell that sealed the cake to its cooking vessel. Awesome.

Now, granted we could have just smoothed this over with icing, but once again my brothers intervened, slathering the cake in blue and green icing, then littering it in a mess of sprinkles (again with the fucking sprinkles...WHY WOULD YOU USE SPRINKLES?!), peppermints and old chocolate chips, which we found out moments later were infested by bugs. Mmmmmm...The end product, though delicious, was the cake wreck to end all cake wrecks.

But it wasn't the end product, it was the process that hooked me. The mixing, the measuring, watching as the batter rose up into a golden brown cake...I was done. However, I put my baking in the backseat for about a year, until of course my parents divorced. Afterwards, I used baking as a form of therapy to get me through it, and eventually, it evolved into an easy way for me to keep my Chakras balanced.

Fair enough. One more question before we go though.


You're just ripping off Johnny Hazzard, aren't you?